Focusing on Your Target Audience

When I walk into Walmart, I can feel my blood pressure rising. Target isn’t much better; however, it is the lesser of the two evils.

Usually.

Not today.

I forgot my salad dressing for my lunch. I’ve been out of Advil Cold & Sinus for several days and that’s not good here in Sinus/Allergy Country. The Q-Tip jar was getting low. It had shaped up to be a one-stop shopping kind of morning. Target is very close to my office so I decided that instead of my morning break stroll around the building, I’d go kill a couple birds with one stone.

~ Tangent-y Interlude ~
Sinus pain can not be alleviated with regular headache medications. Being without any sinus medication makes me very nervous. The substance that works on my sinus pain also happens to be a favorite ingredient of meth cookers. The alternative (non-meth-making) ingredient the drug companies have developed doesn’t work as well for me. Advil Cold & Sinus, my personal sinus drug of choice, must be purchased from the pharmacist at the pharmacy counter. I have to present my identification and sign a logbook every time I purchase my sinus meds. I am not allowed to purchase more than two boxes at a time. This greatly irritates me but this is not the place for that rant.
~ End of Tangent-y Interlude ~

I timed my arrival at Target so that I’d get there after the pharmacy opened. The pharmacy is supposed to open at 9 a.m. I arrived at 9:20ish. The big, garage door gate was still down at the pharmacy area so I took my time selecting my other purchases.

I stood in front of the cotton swab display area. I looked, derisively, at the Target brand. I would not be suckered into that one again. I contemplated getting the 500-pack but for just a quarter more, I could get the 625-pack. I looked at the 700-pack. I thought about it. I didn’t want to do math in my head to figure out the price per Q-Tip in each of the different quantity boxes. I put 625 Q-Tips in my cart and went to the grocery area.

I stood in front of the oils and vinegars for quite a while. I could see the pharmacy area and it was still locked up tight. I had an internal debate about the merits of extra virgin vs. virgin olive oil. Pharmacy still closed. I admired the pretty bottles of flavored oils but since I don’t have a corkscrew at the office (although that’s a fantastic idea), I passed on them. No pharmacist. Garage door still down. I looked at the balsamic vinegars and their various ages and wondered if my palate would know the difference. I looked at the rice wine vinegars. Still closed. I looked at the red wine vinegars. I looked at the gourmet salad vinegars. Nope, not open.

I spotted a Target employee, Mr. Scruffy McStockerman. I asked him, gesturing toward the sign that showed the pharmacy hours, if the pharmacy was going to open. He looked at his watch. I looked at my watch. It was 9:25 and we agreed that the pharmacy should be open. He said he’d go find out what was going on and would be right back. I stayed in the general area because my buddy, Scruffy, was going to find out why the pharmacy wasn’t open and be right back.

He wasn’t.

I paced. I helped a little old lady in a motorized shopping cart because I couldn’t bear to see her crash into another end cap. I looked at the hair accessories. I reached for a headband. I pulled my hand back because, while I like the look of headbands, I can’t wear them. They hurt my head. The pharmacy gate stayed down.

Passing up my morning break walk for a short errand was turning into an exercise in frustration. That kind of exercise doesn’t earn any Activity Points. I decided I needed to get back to work. As I approached the front of the store, I saw my pal, Scruffy. Scruffy saw me. He was coming from the deli area where he’d purchased his morning snack. Scruffy looked embarrassed.

“Pharmacy?” I asked, with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Okay, actually, it was both eyebrows. I can’t do the one eyebrow thing no matter how hard I try. So, instead of looking all imperious and such, I just look really, really alert. I injected as much bitchiness as I could into my one word question.

“Oh, um, yeah. Well, um, the pharmacist just got here.”

Scruffy looked like he wanted to get away. I let him go.

I waited a few minutes more because, surely, the pharmacist would rush to open the gate since he was more than 30 minutes late, right? Right? Wrong.

I gave up. Dejected, I pushed my cart with the 625 Q-Tips and the extra virgin olive oil and the red wine vinegar to the cashier. When the cashier asked me if I found everything I needed, I was going to let her know (nicely, of course, because it’s not her fault) that I was unhappy about the pharmacy thing.

A young man was stocking the drink cooler by the register. He was very pleasant. Apparently, the cashier thought so, too. She stopped flirting with him long enough to give me my total. That’s it. There was no, “Hi, how are you?” “Did you find everything?” “Thank you for shopping at Target.” Nothing. Just my total. The self-checkout computers are friendlier. Sure, you have to read the screen but I know, deep down in my heart, that those computers are happy I’m a customer.

I Paid For That trip to Target but I’m not happy about it.

It Pains Me to Say This…

As I mentioned in my last entry, I’ve had some trouble with my back. My wonderful general practitioner, Dr. Patrick O’Neill, took great care of me. Unfortunately, the spine specialist/surgeon he referred me to was not so great or wonderful.

Dr. Larry Parker, from The Orthopaedic Center’s (TOC) Spine Center, was a disappointment. Since the MRIs had shown I had torn disks in my lower back and a narrowing of the spinal column in my upper back, Dr. O’Neill requested an urgent appointment with Dr. Parker. I was told to bring the MRI films and reports with me to my appointment.

The staff at TOC’s Spine Center impressed me. They were friendly and efficient. Additionally, Dr. Parker’s aide, David, was personable and helpful. While I didn’t catch his name, the physician’s assistant also seemed quite competent. In the waiting room, I filled out the required paperwork, including a form and diagram where I was to write down all of my symptoms and identify their location on an outline drawing of a body. When I was called back, x-rays were taken of my neck and back.

Dr. Parker was in the exam room with me for less than 3 minutes. He glanced at the films and told me I didn’t need surgery at this time. He said he was going to have me go to physical therapy and would see me in two months. He explained nothing and was about to leave so I asked about the torn disks. He acknowledged that I had tears. I asked about the numbness and burning in my arms. He told me that "people do seem concerned when they lose feeling in their extremities" but offered no other explanation. Why, yes, Dr. Parker, I can see why people would be concerned about their hands going completely numb! He offered to prescribe more pain medication. Since my family doctor had already provided a prescription, I declined. I asked what I should or should not do. He said I should let pain be my guide which is not much help because just about everything hurts. If I’d not been in so much pain, I’d have been a smart ass and asked if I should try levitation because everything else was pretty damned painful. Dr. Parker said I’d strained the muscles in my back. This made little sense to me since I was not doing anything strenuous when my back “popped” but when I started to ask him about that, he interrupted me and said he was going to let me change back into my street clothes – implying he’d be back. He did not return.

It seems that no one read the forms I was required to complete. The information I’d verbally provided to the assistant wasn’t reviewed by Dr. Parker, either. Dr. Parker is a surgeon and it seems once he determined I didn’t need immediate surgery, he had no time for me. I understand he’s busy and I was worked in but I left his office not knowing any more than I did going in. I didn’t know if I should continue using the back brace, ice or TENS unit. I didn’t know if I should return to the chiropractor. I didn’t know what, if any, symptoms should cause me to return to the doctor. I wanted to ask, “Should I expect to be in this intense pain for the next 8 weeks or will it get better? Do tears heal by themselves? How long does it take? Are the pain and burning and numbness in my hands and arms something I just need to get used to? Will I always have shooting pains in my legs and hips? Are there restrictions on how much I can or should lift while my back is healing?”

I didn’t get the chance to ask any of those questions. I expected more from this well-regarded specialist.

I’m more than a little bit peeved that I pay a pretty penny for my insurance premiums and co-pays. I’m not at all happy that I Paid For That.

*Photo is Courtesy of the National Library of Medicine

Doctor, Doctor, Gimme the News...

I love my family doctor. I love him, his wife (the office manager/head nurse), and the entire staff at his office. Why do I love him? So many reasons! I love his accent. He sounds like he just arrived from Ireland. He’s straightforward. Very straightforward. He is direct and clear without having that obnoxious, condescending, superiority complex that some other doctors have. He is respectful of his patients’ time. All in all, he provides excellent service and that’s why I’m writing about it here.

When I go to Dr. Patrick O’Neill’s office, I am seen promptly. I have never waited more than five minutes in his waiting room. That’s nearly unbelievable to me. A five minute wait at a doctor’s office? I’ve never had a doctor like that. Part of it, I’m sure, has to do with the signs posted informing patients that refills and such need to be requested during your office visit with an explanation that time spent calling in prescriptions takes away from other patients’ time.

The staff who handle the preliminary stuff (weight, temp, symptoms, etc.) are quick yet thorough. They’re friendly. They’re not too friendly. Too friendly medical technicians kind of give me the creeps.

When Dr. O’Neill comes in, he’s already read the chart. He asks questions, gives his thoughts, orders any necessary tests, asks if you have questions and is gone. Office visits are quick. Normally, this would bother me. I’d feel like the doctor didn’t care or didn’t have time for me. Feeling like you’re a nuisance to your doctor is not going to build any trust. I go in with a list. If there’s anything I need to discuss with him, I mention it when he walks in the door. He sits down and takes the time to talk. I love that. He doesn’t waste mine or his time when it’s not necessary. He has all the time in the world when it is.

The past few weeks have been difficult. I’d been reading email on Father’s Day when I felt a “pop” in my back. I wasn’t even moving when it happened, let alone stretching, twisting, or lifting. I was in agony. Not knowing what was wrong, I went to a highly recommended local chiropractor. Most of what she did was helpful and eased my pain. However, after my second visit with her, I was in so much pain I was crying. This is unusual for me as I have a very high pain tolerance. It was around 6 p.m. so my doctor was closed and, surprise!, the chiropractor couldn’t prescribe anything for pain. I took a chance and called Dr. O’Neill’s office. I got his service and they said they’d pass the message to him. He called back with in minutes. When he heard what happened, he immediately called in a few necessary prescriptions and told me to come in the next morning. It wasn’t a problem. As much as he respects time, he didn’t seem to mind my interrupting his time. Sure, he’s a doctor and being “on call” for your patients is part of the gig but he’s also a human. I get miffed when I get called in when I’m off work.

Pain meds, anti-inflammatory meds, and steroids were the plan along with rest and a warning. Now, this warning wasn’t clear to me at first. I think we expect certain words from certain people. Perhaps it’s wrong to generalize but I’d never expect a nun or my grandmother to use foul language. I don’t expect toddlers to use multi-syllabic words. I don’t expect multi-syllabic words from my ex-husband, either, but that’s just rude and I probably shouldn’t have “said” it. I wouldn’t expect slang from my high school English teacher. So, when my wonderful doctor with his strong Irish accent gave me this warning, my brain failed to understand what he said at first. I had to ask him to repeat himself. You must, while reading this warning, do it with a heavy brogue. Okay, ready?

“If ya pee your pants or crap yourself, call me right away! That’s a surgical emergency!”

“Crap yourself” is not a phrase I ever expected to hear from my doctor and I got to hear it twice. I was stunned into silence. Those of you who know me in the world outside of blogging are shocked by this. I know! I was, too! I am rarely speechless. The speechlessness lasted until I was outside in the truck. There, I giggled and giggled and giggled. I nearly wet my pants. Hey, I’m “of a certain age,” you know. Stuff like that happens. I did not crap myself.

When, after several days, the pain increased, the good doctor sent me for two MRIs. Even though my insurance company has been hesitant about approving MRIs, Dr. O’Neill’s wife convinced them to approve two of them. Dr. O’Neill had my results the same day. The same day! Seems, I’d torn two disks in my lower back and have some narrowing of my spinal column in my upper back/neck. This is extremely painful. He spent the next day trying to get me in with a spine specialist/surgeon. I’ve heard from other people that it takes up to six weeks to get in with a spine doctor in this area if you aren’t already a patient. Dr. O’Neill got me in with Dr. Parker, a very highly regarded local back surgeon, the next day.

This is just one example of why I love my doctor. He cares about his patients. He provides excellent service. With my insurance premiums and office co-pays, I’m happy to pay for that.